Rooftop Philosophy
by Elina
Summary: [I found this from my computer...] Sara and Greg have a conversation up on the rooftop of the LVCL.


  
  
A/N: I was going to start writing some new chapter to some of my stories, so I started browsing through my files to see what was there when I found this from my computer. I'd written it some months ago and thought of it as silly and boring and not well written or something and left it to drown into my ever growing pile of unfinished stories, and now I found it and thought "what the heck, every writer writes something awful". I don't know what was my goal then and what it is now as I'm posting this, I guess this is just cheap, booth philosophy but… I don't know. I just could picture a conversation like this.   
  
** Rooftop Philosophy **  
  
The form of the man, sitting on the edge of the concrete wall that outlined the entire rooftop a little higher than the rest of its surroundings, was illuminated by the city lights. He sat there with his back towards the approaching woman, unaware of her presence, gazing down at the street buzzing with movement below. Sara watched him carefully as she walked closer. He lifted the bottle in his hand to his lips to take a gulp. Dr. Pepper, she guessed.   
  
"Don't be startled and jump off," she cut the night air with her voice, managing to make him do just what she'd told him not to. Well, the first part about it, anyway. The man's head whirled around with surprise, the hand holding the bottle dropping to his side. His eyes soon took a friendly glint though, as he recognized the young woman, and his face softened into a wide smile.   
  
"Hiya, peechy," he greeted teasingly. "What brings you here?"   
  
"I could ask you the same thing," she responded, giving a small one-sided smile at the messy-haired man as she propped herself against the waist-height wall, her back towards the city. She looked at him as he just sat there with his feet daringly hanging over the edge before answering. "I like this place." Greg didn't say more, instead he shut his own mouth with the mouth of the bottle as he took another sip. It _was_ Dr. Pepper, Sara noted with satisfaction, she'd been right after all.   
  
"I didn't even know they kept the door to here open," she broke the silence that tried to land on them.   
  
"Of course they do. A fire exit or something like that."   
  
"Yeah..." She crossed her arms over her chest, almost hugging herself. "You didn't exactly answer my question."   
  
She could feel his eyes turning to look at her even though her own were cast to the view in front of her that sprawled over the empty, gray rooftop. "About why I'm here?" she could feel more than hear him speak as his breath tickled her bare arm. She nodded. "I have a break. And sometimes... Sometimes I like to come here and look at the people and the cars below and... think stuff."   
  
She smiled. "Stuff? Well, aren't you profound," she chuckled, this time turning her head enough to look at him again. A smile lit up his face, his usual one, the one that looked like he'd been born with it. "You know me, ever the mental guru."   
  
"That you sure are."   
  
"Sometimes I -- not to say that I don't enjoy your company," he rushed to add, glancing at her direction, before continuing, "but sometimes I like to sit here alone above the city. Call it a god complex, if you will."   
  
Sara leaned back a bit to peer over the edge, judging the distance between the two of them and the asphalt. "We're not high enough for a god complex."   
  
"That we are not," he admitted, laughing again. His soft laughter rang in the night, making Sara smile too. His eyes turned to her, still smiling warmly, as he said; "You should smile more often, Sara, it suits you."   
  
She couldn't help the grin. "Are you trying to get into my pants, Greg Sanders?" she teased.   
  
"No, of course not," he rushed to answer, a mock shocked look on his face. "I don't have to be hitting on you to tell you the truth. Why? Is it working?" A smug smirk granted the last comment. She smacked him playfully on the shoulder.   
  
"Stop it, Greg. Seriously, what are you thinking about up here in your god complex?"   
  
"Are you trying get into my head, Sara Sidle?"   
  
"Why? Is it working?"   
  
Greg just shook his head with a small smile on his face, once again casting his eyes downwards at the traffic below. They sat there for a long moment in silence.   
  
His voice was thoughtful, mellow, as he finally spoke. "I don't know. That... one day you'll just walk on the streets and stop dead on your feet because you realize that you don't know where the hell it is that you're going."   
  
Sara blinked, surprised by his sudden gloomy words, but as she looked at him she could find no traced of sadness on his face. "You're sounding awfully... not you tonight."   
  
He shrugged, then laughed. "So are you. But, actually, you didn't let me finish. I was going to say that..." He pulled his finger up, interrupting his own speech as he carefully steadied the bottle on the ground behind him. He pushed himself up, climbed off the wall and offered his hand to Sara. Hesitantly she took it, only to be pulled up to her feet. She shrieked with surprise as Greg pulled her closer, confidently and tightly into his arms, twining one arm around her waist and keeping the other up to hold her hand in the mid air. She almost stumbled as he whirled her around with him, but quickly adjusted to his steps, twirling under the stars in his arms, her hair flying in the air with every turn. She couldn't help laughing as Greg took a faster spin. "If you don't know where you're going, you might as well stop walking and dance a little," she heard Greg smirking into her ear.   
  
THE END   
  



End file.
